


Your Place or Mine

by butterflycell



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Bed, boys need to communicate more
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflycell/pseuds/butterflycell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They spend more time at Mike's place than Harvey's - but that can't be right... right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Place or Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Just a ficlet that's been bouncing around my brain for a while - wanted to get it written so I can move back to my longer WIPs again!
> 
> Enjoy =)

The first time the overstepped the mark of 'slightly inadvisable' to 'outright unprofessional', they were in Harvey's office.  
  
It was the middle of the night, sometime in the early hours of the morning, and Mike had been sitting hunched over a laptop at Harvey's desk. Harvey had been pacing for the best part of half an hour, desperately trying to keep awake. There wasn't even music playing.  
  
Mike had sighed, rubbing at his eyes viciously and covering his face with his palms. He'd let his head rest, his elbows propping him up so he stayed sitting.  
  
The case was supposed to be simple, open and shut within the week, which was why Harvey had promised an expedited result. Four days in and so much shit had been unearthed that even Jessica hadn't known where to turn next.  
  
But Mike had been exhausted, and frustrated and feeling just a little helpless, because even Harvey had been about a breath away from admitting defeat. He'd sighed again, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes as if he'd find the answer if he just pushed hard enough.  
  
He'd heard the footsteps, but he hadn't registered them, not until a warm hand was sliding round the back of his neck. Mike had felt his lungs catch as Harvey's hand settled firmly, cradling the base of his skull. Mike had pulled his hands from his face, moving one to grip tightly to Harvey's wrist. The weight on the back of his neck hadn't lessened and he'd gripped tighter.  
  
It had lasted less than a minute, but Harvey had been standing _right there_ and Mike hadn't really been able to control his breathing properly. Then Harvey moved and was saying they'd call it a night once they'd finished that file.  
  
The return to a professional distance lasted for all of an hour and a half, because then they were in the elevator and Mike had Harvey pushed up against the wall, Harvey pulling him in by his lapels and kissing him like the world was about to end.  
  
The first time they fucked, it was at Harvey's place, after closing the the case a few days later and being taken to dinner by the client.  
  
His apartment was all slick, polished glass and tasteful black leather, Mike finding his fingers wound into absurdly expensive grey cotton as Harvey pinned him down and took him hard. He'd had to get up early the next morning, to get a new suit from home, but he left with the feel of Harvey's insistent grip on his wrist where he'd urged him to stay.  
  
It all just became a routine after that. No labels were put down, emotions weren't thrown up all over the place, they just fucked when they wanted and did a pretty awesome job of keeping it quiet. Donna had her suspicions, but then it would've been _wrong_ if she hadn't started to work things out.  
  
They spent nights at Harvey's, snuck gropes and biting kisses at work and, on one _memorable_ occasion, Mike was treated to a blowjob in the town car – but it was maybe four months into the arrangement when they first ended up at Mike's.  
  
Some charity gala had been held on the other side of town to the office and, by the time they managed to get free, Mike had suggested his place – it was nearer, which meant less time travelling and more time letting Harvey finger him open. He'd expected some sort of disdain, a snide remark maybe, but instead Harvey had just nodded with a slight smile and flagged down a taxi. That night had been _good_ , Harvey holding him close and thrusting slowly until they fell apart together.  
  
Anyone else would've called what they had a relationship, but it hadn't really occurred to either of them. It was a mutually beneficial situation that had fluid boundaries. Work carried on at its usual pace; Mike carried on making the other associates look like children and Harvey was starting to claim his foothold for a possible Managing Partner position.  
  
The whole time, their after hours agreement carried on. They spent most weekends together and several nights during the week, but it wasn't until maybe a year after that night in the office, that Mike actually paused for a moment to take stock.  
  
It was overcast outside his windows, pale grey clouds creating a frustrating blanket across the sky. The trees outside were almost empty, the last dregs of orange and brown waiting to be dragged off them by the wind. There was a bite in the air and moisture on the ground and clinging to the inside of his windows.  
  
He sat on the window ledge and drew a line through the condensation, looking out at the street briefly. He shivered a little and snagged his discarded hoody from the night before. One downside to Harvey staying over was forgetting to put on proper pyjamas. Tshirt and boxers were all fine in late-spring and the summer, but the turning fall called for flannel and thick cotton – but with the human furnace on the other side of the bed, they weren't all that appropriate at night.  
  
Harvey shifted under the covers, tugging the duvet up to his chin and holding it tightly. His face was still slack with sleep, creases from the pillows creeping across his cheek, his hair sticking out slightly. He'd buried his nose and mouth into the duvet and Mike was pleased to see that some of the shadow under his eyes had eased through the night. It had been a week since they'd spent any time together outside of the office, and it had been clear that Harvey hadn't been sleeping. Something private for Jessica, but he hadn't been able to say what. When he'd shown up the night before, Mike had just pulled him inside and over to the bed. Harvey had been perfectly content to curl up and fall asleep whilst Mike held him.  
  
Mike flipped up his hood and crossed over to the bed. He straddled the lump Harvey made under the covers and sat back on his hip, moving a hand to thread through Harvey's hair and smooth it somewhat. Harvey made a noise of protest and turned his head into the pillows, shifting under Mike to lie on his stomach.  
  
Mike smiled and leaned down, fingers still running through the shorter hair at the nape of his neck. Harvey rubbed his face sluggishly into the pillow and grumbled slightly. Mike pressed a kiss to the back of Harvey's neck and pushed himself off.  
  
Harvey would be stirring in the next five minutes or so, just a little cranky and searching out coffee as if his life depended on it. Mike turned off the coffee machine – bought solely to stop Harvey bitching about having to put up with the instant stuff – and poured a couple of mugs, carrying them over to the bed and taking up his place on the window ledge again. He blew on his own mug, watching Harvey with a smile. He'd twisted back onto his side, brow now furrowed as he clearly tried to force himself back to sleep. Sometimes, Mike wondered if Harvey would one day work out how to move the Rockies by shear force of will.  
  
Finally, Harvey heaved a sigh and blinked his eyes open slowly, his frown smoothing out as his focus shifted and fixed on Mike – or rather, fixed on the coffee mugs in his hands. He wormed a hand out from under the duvet, sacrificing some of the warmth in favour of retrieving his drink. Mike handed it over and the mug and Harvey's arm disappeared under the covers.  
  
He was about to laugh when he caught himself and a strange feeling tightened around his lungs. This whole scene was _absurd_. Harvey didn't do domestic, did he? Harvey did spectacular fucking and smooth charm, he didn't do coffee in bed and vulnerability. He didn't show up in the middle of the night to just go to sleep and he didn't do shitty little apartments in Brooklyn.  
  
Right?  
  
Another muffled sigh came from under the sheets and Mike just about managed to shake himself enough to take the mug as it was thrust at him, now empty. He put it to one side as Harvey pushed back the duvet a little and smiled at him tiredly.  
  
“Hi.” He said, rubbing his eyes briefly. Mike felt another pang at how young he looked, just for a moment.  
  
“Feeling better?” Mike asked, draining his coffee and putting his mug with Harvey's. Harvey nodded and made a noise of affirmation. Mike clambered across the bed and wriggled down under the covers, Harvey trying to keep heat in at all costs.  
  
Mike settled on his side, facing Harvey, hood still up. Harvey caught up the drawstrings and tugged him forwards, kissing him softly as Mike wriggled closer. He had dog breath – they both did – and the kiss was bitter with coffee, but he wasn't complaining. He'd _missed_ this version of Harvey.  
  
Harvey shuffled closer, threading their legs together and running a hand over Mike's cheek and up to push his hood back. They broke apart and Mike sighed, pushing Harvey's hair off his forehead, combing it back.  
  
“Sorry about the late call last night.” Harvey said, hands resting on Mike's hips.  
  
“You know I don't mind.” Mike pulled his hand back, running his index finger down the middle of Harvey's face, coming to a halt at his bottom lip before withdrawing it. “If you'd let me know, I would've met you at yours.”  
  
“It's not that out of my way.” Harvey shrugged and Mike frowned slightly and pushed back a little. That was ridiculous. Harvey's apartment was half an hour closer to work than his and on the way.  
  
“Harvey, I'm the other side of the city.” Harvey just shrugged again and closed his eyes. Mike flicked him on the forehead and Harvey's eyes snapped back open, his gaze offended. Mike ignored it and met his eyes levelly. “What's the deal?”  
  
“What's wrong with just wanting to come over here?” Harvey scowled slightly.  
  
“You _hate_ my place.” Mike reminded him, but Harvey just pressed his lips together. “You think it's too small and too messy and you _always_ complain about stumbling over the step into the bathroom.”  
  
“I don't hate it.” Harvey said, clearly offended by Mike's accusations – which just made Mike frown more. He was completely confused.  
  
“The bed sheets aren't soft enough.” Mike said.  
  
“They smell good.” Harvey fired back.  
  
“There's no storage space.” Mike countered.  
  
“Because you've filled it all.” Harvey tugged him closer, settling a hand on the small of his back.  
  
“The couch has pen stains on it.” Mike was grasping at straws a little, but the irritation had eased from Harvey's expression.  
  
“They add character.” He said slowly.  
  
“Harvey, you moved half my suits to your place.” Mike shoved weakly at Harvey's chest, but he just held him tighter.  
  
“So I could bring mine here.” He replied, but something in Mike's head didn't quite click. Harvey was watching him closely, bemusment turning to something more than a little like affection and Mike _knew_ he'd missed something somewhere along the line. “You really don't get it, do you?”  
  
“I really don't.” Mike shook his head and sighed.  
  
“I _like_ your place. It feels like home.” It was a simple statement, honest and innocent in it's phrasing. Mike fell still and stared at him, more than a little incredulous.  
  
“But it's the complete opposite of your apartment.” He felt like he was trying to reason with a mad man.  
  
“ _Exactly_.” Harvey smiled and nudged their noses together.  
  
It started to dawn slowly then. Every weekend for the last two months, they'd been _here_. Any time they weren't dead on their feet , they'd come _here_. Harvey complaining about the place more often because he was _here_ more often. During the week, they stopped at Harvey's, but it was a stop gap. It was just a little too impersonal, a little _too_ high-end.  
  
Mike couldn't imagine kicking his shoes to one side in the pristine entryway, or leaving a stack of half-read books on Harvey's coffee table. He couldn't imagine trying to cook dinner in the showroom kitchen and he definitely couldn't imagine leaving anything personal about the place. Harvey's place was neat and his personality was tucked away – books and movies weren't on display, his clothes were always pristinely stored and dirty dishes seemed to be allergic to sitting in the sink.  
  
But he'd thought that was how Harvey liked it. He thought Harvey lived like that because he wanted to, because he _chose_ to.  
  
“If you like it so much, why don't you change yours?” Mike traced his fingers down the side of Harvey's neck.  
  
“Sometimes it still feels like someone's going to show up at the door and ask for their place back. _Stuff_ isn't going to change that.” Harvey tilted his head slightly and Mike moved his fingers up over the stubble on his chin.  
  
“Is that a challenge?” Mike raised an eyebrow and Harvey laughed lightly. Mike closed the gap and kissed him again, a little harder this time, licking in and revelling in the feeling of Harvey pressed flush against him. He did his best to ignore the way his heart was beating just a little too quickly in his chest.


End file.
